


Just Go With It

by loveglowsinthedark



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bottom Draco, Crack, Dirty Talk, Fluff and Humour, M/M, Muggle Phones, Phone Sex, Telemarketing, This is crack, Top Harry, it's prompt based but it's crack, mentions of object insertion, self anal fingering, this time I'm serious, wanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 11:33:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10920972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveglowsinthedark/pseuds/loveglowsinthedark
Summary: The prompt: Draco is a telemarketer who calls Harry trying to sell him stuff; phone sex ensues.





	Just Go With It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chibaken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibaken/gifts).
  * Translation into 中文 available: [【哈德】【授权翻译】顺其自然](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13614594) by [pandasiteitei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandasiteitei/pseuds/pandasiteitei)



> I have really weird friends, okay? This time it's my [my top bitch, AKA Radio the Cat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibaken/pseuds/chibaken) who's setting me to task with prompts like this and as a result, I end up writing more crack. THIS IS CRACK. DO NOT QUESTION IT. Also, is it weird that I've named her as co-creator because she prompted me _and_ am gifting this fic to her? 
> 
> Bitch, you owe me but I love you very much ok bye. ❤️ 
> 
> [Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the work of J.K. Rowling and is not my intellectual property. I intend no copyright infringement and seek no financial gain from this work. This work of fiction is purely for entertainment purposes.]

Harry had barely set foot out the Floo when his landline began to ring like a loud, whinging _bitch_. First Robards wouldn’t get off his arse about the recent increase in Squib attacks, and he had a shit amount of paperwork that only increased every day, and he was still in a dilemma about hiring himself an assistant, and now this fucking... _thing_ , had to start screaming at him before he’d even got himself a fucking cup of tea.

Cursing himself for letting Hermione talk him into getting a fucking _landline_ (“We _need_ to be able to contact you, Harry; you keep warding your Floo shut!”), Harry stomped over to it, lifted the receiver and slammed it back down with a loud _clunk_.

* * *

 Ten minutes later, he was sinking down onto his sofa, _just_ about to put his feet up when—

\--with a jarring, metallic wail, the fucking phone started ringing again.

“Fuck you!” Harry screamed at it. But he got up and strode over anyway.

“Yes?”

“Mr. H. J. Potter?”

“Who is this?”

“Good evening, sir! I’m calling from Solar Spotlights--”

“Ugh--”

Harry threw the receiver back onto the base and went back to his Earl Grey, somehow thoroughly irritated with that smooth voice.

* * *

 Half an hour later, Harry was standing in the middle of his kitchen and yelling at Baguette.

“How many times have we talked about this?! I am _talking_ to you, young lady, look at me!” The sleek ferret didn’t even glance around at him from where she was crouched in the sink, and continued drinking straight from the tap. “ _Look_ at this mess! Why would you bother ripping open _three packets_ of biscuits if you’re only going to _throw_ it all over the place and not even _eat_ it?!”

The fucking phone went off again just then and muttering darkly, yelping as he skidded on an empty biscuit packet, Harry went to answer it.

“Yes?”

“Mr. H. Potter?”

“ _Yes?!_ ”

“I’m calling from Solar Spotlights – the power of the sun, in your hands!”

“That’s a shit tagline.”

“...I’m calling about our top of the line torches, sir--”

“BAGUETTE! NO! BAGUETTE, STOP!”

* * *

 Harry manoeuvred another clump of egg fried rice into his mouth while pointing the remote at the TV with his other hand, flicking lazily through the channels, nudging Baguette away with his knee as she tried to steal a spring roll with one tiny paw.

She leaped off his lap with an indignant chirp and scurried away haughtily and before Harry could call out and coax her back, the goddamn phone rang again.

“I swear to _god_ , if it’s someone trying to sell me shit again--” Harry grit his teeth answered with forced calm. “Hello?”

“Mr. Potter.” It was a sharp snap.

“Oh my god! I don’t _want_ to buy the sun!”

“We sell _torches_ , you fucki--” Harry inhaled sharply – not at the impertinence but because there was something inexplicably _familiar_... “We’re proud to say that we make the best battery operated torches, available in a variety of different sizes--”

“Aren’t you guys called Solar Something?”

“Solar _Spotlights_.” It was bitten out at him through tightly grit teeth and Harry grinned.

“So like... I thought you’d sell solar powered rubbish—why d’you sell battery operated stuff?”

There was a pause and Harry could hear quick breathing on the other side. “We—we’re number one in the market--”

“I mean, it makes no sense if you think about it?”

“—and we’ll even give you a free pouch along with--”

“—could instead call yourselves _Battery_ Spotlights or someth--”

“Shut up!”

“Malfoy?” Harry stared blankly at the framed photograph of Luna and Ginny on the wall in front of him; Ginny was whispering into Luna’s ear and the two of them were pink in the face as they giggled at Harry.

There was pin-drop silence on the other end.

“Malfoy?” Harry whispered it this time, unsure as to _why_ he was whispering in the first place. “Malfoy, is that you?”

“If you buy two of our Deluxe Grands, you’ll also get a free pocket sized--”

“Oh my god, it _is_ you!”

“Sir, my name is Derek.”

Harry snorted. “Doesn’t quite ring like ‘Draco’, but okay, Malfoy.”

“I am _not_ Malfoy.”

“How are you though? It’s been a while, Malfoy.”

“It’s _Derek!_ ”

“ _Why_ are you selling torches for a living, Malfoy?!”

“Potter, you utter fucking twat, I’m _Derek_ , goddammit!”

The line went dead and Harry stared down at the bright red receiver for a full minute.

* * *

 Harry lay in bed, his hands under his head, Baguette pressed into his hip, warm and furry. He’d been lying there for over an hour, wide awake. He was tired – his body ached with fatigue – but he couldn’t fall asleep. He also couldn’t stop thinking about Malfoy.

And the fact that he now apparently worked as a telemarketer – and sold fucking _torches_.

It was only when Harry had been in the shower, just before he’d gotten into bed, when he’d realised that he may have inadvertently humiliated Malfoy, speaking to him the way he had; asking him all those questions about what he did, just blurting them out like that.

He felt like an utter arsehole. Anybody who even vaguely knew Malfoy would know that it probably killed him to do what he did, to earn his living by being yelled at and snubbed by people over the phone. Harry felt an odd mixture of remorse and genuine sympathy for Malfoy.

He started when the phone on his bedside table started to ring, a soft beeping in contrast to the belligerent shrieking from the line in the living room. Harry reached out to the cordless receiver, his stomach fluttering excitedly for some absurd reason, and pressed the button to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Do you want to buy a fucking torch or not?”

“Shit, Malfoy, I’m glad you called back. Listen, I’m really sorry about earlier, I didn’t mean to embarrass you or anything, alright?”

“Fuck off, Potter, I know you’re practically having a party right now, having learnt what you have about me.”

“No, Jesus, I swear! I really am sorry! I—I didn’t _mean_ to recognise your voice!”

There was a contemptuous snort on the other end. “Yes, I’m sure.” Neither of them said anything for a while.

“I’ll—I’ll buy a torch, if you like?”

“I _don’t_ need you to do me any fucking _favours_ , Potter!”

“Did you call just to yell at me?!”

“Yes!”

“Wait, really?”

“I don’t know!”

“Why _did_ you call, then?”

“ _I don’t know!_ ”

“Well, could I at least buy a fucking torch?!”

“No!”

“Why the hell not?!”

“Because I just got off work, I’m calling you from my cell!”

“Oh.”

Another long pause. “I really don’t know _why_ I called though.”

“To yell at me?” Malfoy snorted again but it lacked heat this time. “Why’d I need a torch, Malfoy? I’m a fucking wizard.”

“I don’t know,” Malfoy said once more, and Harry was completely certain that he was smiling – he could see it when he closed his eyes; pink lips spreading into that slow smirk, grey eyes sparkling with mischief, pink spots of excitement high on sharp cheekbones. “I was just doing my job, Potter.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Harry said casually, adjusting his cock in his boxer shorts. “But what’d I _do_ with a torch?”

Malfoy sighed irritably. “I don’t _know_. Fuck yourself with it maybe?”

Harry grinned wickedly to himself. “Oh, I’d rather fuck _you_ with it, Malfoy.”

The longest pause yet; Harry’s heart thundered in his ears – he wondered if Malfoy could hear it?

Then he heard a long, shuddering breath being drawn in. “You wish, Potter.”

Harry slowly pushed the elastic of his boxers down. “Yeah.” His voice was rather hoarse. “Yeah, I sort of do...”

“Are—are you in bed?”

“Yeah.” Harry’s cock sprung out, half hard with a bead of moisture at the tip.

“Potter.” The sharpness in Malfoy’s voice sounded forced. “Potter, are you fucking _wanking?_ ”

“Should I be?” Harry paused. “Where are you?”

“In... in the gents’; I’m still at work.”

“I thought you said you got off work?”

“I did, I just—I didn’t want to wait until I got home to yell at you.”

Harry licked his lips on a lazy grin, switching the phone to his left hand and reaching to curl his right around his cock. “Ah.”

“Oh my god, you _are_ wanking, aren’t you?!”

“Not actively.” Harry slid his thumb over the head, gathering the precome and spreading it around in a quick circle. “Are you alone?”

“Yes.”

“Are you inside a stall, Malfoy?”

“No.” Malfoy swallowed loudly. “I could-- I could go inside a stall...”

“Do it.” Harry heard footsteps on tile, a soft creaking sound, a thud as the plywood door was pushed shut and a loud rattle as it was locked. “Are you in?”

“Yes.” Malfoy licked his lips – Harry actually _heard_ it. “What now?”

“We were discussing what I’d do with the torch...”

“Oh.” Harry heard quick breathing. “Yeah, you were saying you’d...”

“Fuck you with it?” Harry stroked himself swiftly – once, twice, and a quick twist around the head. “Would you let me do that?” Silence. “Would you let _me_ fuck you, Malfoy?”

With a ragged breath Malfoy answered, “Fuck you, Potter, you _know_ I would.”

Harry groaned softly. “Do you have your cock out?”

“Yes,” Malfoy admitted softly. “So hard, Potter...”

“Don’t.” Harry was shocked at the bark in his own voice. “Don’t touch that gorgeous cock yet.” He could hear Malfoy’s breathing stutter again. “Do you have your wand on you?”

“Y-yes.”

“Lube. Conjure some right now.” There was a soft whine and Harry shut his eyes, picturing Malfoy – long and blond, probably dressed in perfectly tailored clothes, fumbling around for his wand in a fucking toilet cubicle in some Muggle building with his pants around his knees, stunning, round arse exposed; his hand tightened around his cock. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Malfoy said on an exhale. “Now what?”

“What do you think, Malfoy?” Harry licked his own suddenly completely dry lips. “Give yourself one finger.” There was a brief clatter as Malfoy did something. Harry frowned. “What’re you doing?”

“Fucking _wait_ , Potter!” Malfoy panted. “I was using a Sticking Charm to mount my phone onto the wall. Now give me a second while I put you on speaker and put up a Silencing Charm.”

Harry swore under his breath – the way Malfoy was _preparing_ for this—“Wish I could just _fuck_ you right now,” he groaned and Malfoy laughed a small, breathless laugh.

“First give me an orgasm I’ll never forget, Potter; here, now, like this - over the phone. And then I’ll let you fuck me however much you want – for real.”

“Challenge accepted.” Harry sat up, kicking the covers off himself vigorously and accidentally catching Baguette with one heel. “Shit, Baguette, I’m so sorry!”

“What the fuck, Potter? Why do you keep yelling at a loaf of bread?!”

“It’s not—it’s my pet ferret! I accidentally kicked her.”

“...You have a pet _ferret?_ ”

Harry hurriedly tamped down a laugh. “Y-yeah, her name’s Baguette.”

“ _Why?!_ ”

“Why do I have a pet ferret, or why is she named Baguette?”

“ _All_ of it! _Why?!_ ”

Harry laughed softly, pulling his boxers off completely. “I saw her at the vet when Ron and I took Crookshanks. She’d been found injured and was really rather cute and I couldn’t help it.” Harry smiled at the tightly curled furry at the foot of his bed. “And Ron can’t name things for shit – but we both thought Baguette would be funny.”

Malfoy sighed. “Good to know you’re still weird as fuck.”

“Is your arse still as _hot_ as fuck as it used to be?”

Malfoy laughed softly. “It’s hotter now, even if I do say so myself.”

Harry let his head thump back onto the wall with a low moan. “Still have the lube?” He didn’t get an answer. “Malfoy?”

“I’m fingering myself, Potter,” Malfoy replied quietly. “One finger – as requested.”

“Fuck.” Harry hurriedly grabbed his cock, stroking it a few times. “Can you take two yet?”

“Oh, I can take a lot more than two,” Malfoy breathed - and then he gasped, sharp and soft.

“Fuck them in as deep as you can get them, Malfoy,” Harry growled, pausing to wordlessly conjure himself some lube, coating his cock with it before continuing. “Put one foot up on the toilet and _fuck_ them in.”

“Potter,” Malfoy whimpered. “Oh _god_ \--”

“That’s it, give your prostate a little rub...” Harry’s hand flew over his cock now, his grip tightening every few strokes. He pulled at his foreskin, tugging it hard the way he liked before running two fingertips along the vein underneath.

“Merlin! Oh god!” If he concentrated really hard, Harry thought he could hear the slick squelch of Malfoy’s fingers.

“Fuck, I think I can hear it.” Harry’s hips bucked sharply as he fucked his own fist. “Come on, Malfoy, put another one in. If it were me, I’d be fucking you open with three fingers; four if I feel like your fantastic arse can take it--”

Malfoy was panting now, drawing deep, harsh breaths through his mouth. “Yes— _yes!_ Four... More than four—your wh-whole fucking _hand_ \--”

Harry swore loudly, his balls throbbing hard and tight. “ _Fuck_ —Or maybe I’d just bend you over and fuck you, huh, Malfoy? Shove my cock in you and fuck you hard and fast and—so _hard_ \--” The wet sounds his hand made were obscenely loud now – he stroked even faster, arching up into it. Sweat poured off him and his hair clung to his forehead, his back sticking to the wall.

“As hard as you can, Potter--!” Malfoy was crying out a little _uh_ every few seconds now – it was driving Harry _insane_.

“Grab your cock with your other hand,” Harry ordered urgently – he was mere seconds away. “Come for me, Malfoy—come while I shoot my load inside you.”

“As deep as you can go!” And then, “ _Potter!_ ”

Hearing Malfoy call out his name as he climaxed - Harry couldn’t hold back anymore. With a throaty cry of his own, he was coming all over his hand, his thighs, his stomach. On the other end, Malfoy was moaning a long, low moan that made Harry cuss under his breath and wish fiercely, for the first time yet, that Malfoy was there – with him, in his bed.

He slid down slowly until he was lying down again, boneless and sweaty, and held the receiver between chin and shoulder as he spelled himself clean and pulled his boxers back up, leaving the covers off while he cooled off.

He’d just had phone sex with Draco Malfoy.

He could hear faint, indiscernible sounds from the other end now, and after clearing his throat awkwardly, asked, “You okay over there?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He sounded like the Malfoy Harry knew; cool, curt – shuttered; nothing like the man who’d just orgasmed with him, all while making the most deliciously lewd sounds as they jointly imagined Harry fucking him.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said automatically.

“What for?” Malfoy sounded bewildered.

“I don’t know.” Harry swallowed. “You sound upset.”

“Ugh, Potter, stop being a fucking girl,” he snapped. Harry heard the gush of Malfoy presumably washing his hands. He heard the rip of tissues being wrenched out. Then Malfoy sighed. “I’m not upset. I just—what does one say after they have phone sex with their school rival completely out of the blue? I mean, I wasn’t _prepared_ for this when I started my day, Potter.”

Harry laughed, he couldn’t help it. Malfoy was right, what had happened was utterly mad.

“Yeah, I know.” Harry idly scratched his stomach where the Charm had missed a spot. “But, I mean... I sort of... enjoyed it?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“Both.”

Malfoy snorted. “It was a decent attempt, Potter.”

“A decent attempt?!”

“What do you want me to say?” Malfoy laughed. Harry waited. Then, “I may be persuaded to do this again – though preferably never again in a fucking loo stall.”

Harry grinned. “Good.”

Neither spoke again for a few seconds until Malfoy asked, in a very small voice, “Are you going to tell people about my job, Potter?”

“Yeah, listen, about that.” Harry turned onto his side, leaning up on one elbow – he’d just had a brilliant idea – disastrous, but brilliant. “Listen, Malfoy, I don’t know whether you’re going to be interested but I—I know this bloke, at the Ministry--” Malfoy waited patiently through his stammering. “He’s erm... He’s looking to hire a personal assistant. He doesn’t care about Dark Marks and stuff, and... er, the pay’s good too.”

“Who’s the guy?” Malfoy’s tone was so familiar that Harry could almost picture him – one eyebrow raised, eyes slightly narrowed in suspicious appraisal.

“A—a friend,” Harry lied quickly. “Decent bloke,” he added, feeling utterly _stupid_.

Another derisive snort. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Look, just—just come in for an interview tomorrow? Level Two, 11AM? I’m sure he’ll hire you on the spot.”

“Is he bent?”

Harry made an odd spluttering sound. “ _How_ is that pertinent to--?”

“Well, if he’s gay, I’ll wear my tightest pair of trousers.” Malfoy was definitely smirking now and Harry had a feeling he fucking _knew_.

“Dammit, Malfoy.” Harry bit his lip, scratching his eyebrow with his thumb, his cheeks feeling hot as he braced himself. “I’m likely to hire you on sight if you wear them.” Malfoy laughed – actually laughed – a delighted burst of genuine laughter.

“I _knew_ it!”

“I really need a fucking assistant, Malfoy.” Harry grinned as he thumped a fist into his forehead.

“Oh, _sure!_ ” Malfoy chortled for a few seconds before asking, “11AM, you said?”

“11AM.”

“Do I need to carry any personal documents?”

“I think they ask for a proof of residence while they file you into the system.”

“Wait—you said it’s just an inter--?”

“Just go with it, okay?”

“Potter, don’t be ridic--”

“Malfoy,” Harry spoke very firmly, his gut assuring him that he was on the right track. “I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”

Malfoy took a few seconds to answer. “Yes... Alright, Potter.”

“Goodnight—oh, and Malfoy?”

“Yes?”

“You think you could carry one of those torches with you?”

Harry almost _heard_ the other man blush and grinned. “Ugh. _Fuck_ _off_ , Potter.”

“See you soon, Malfoy.”

**~end~**

**Author's Note:**

> At this point, I'm simply going to earnestly beg for kudos and comments, thanks very much.
> 
> xoxo
> 
>  
> 
> RADIO (chibaken) HERE, shamelessly abusing my generously given and totally undeserved co-author privileges to say that in addition to leaving kudos and comments here, you should totally [ GO LIKE & REBLOG THIS DRABBLE ON TUMBLR](https://l0vegl0wsinthedark.tumblr.com/post/160728140906/more-drarry-crack-anyone) and [FOLLOW L0VEGL0WSINTHEDARK](https://l0vegl0wsinthedark.tumblr.com/)!!!


End file.
